Something Like That
by Lizard Pie
Summary: Canada attempted to finally put a name to whatever he had gotten himself into. And he came up with one, he just couldn't be sure that he was right.


This was love.

Canada had tried not to come to this label lightly, and as such he'd taken his time with it as much as he felt he could afford to. And it wasn't that now, covered in the blanket of the German who'd exhausted himself inside of him, he'd necessarily decided anything. He just felt that it was finally time to label it if he were able, mostly because it was tiring to try and come up with a new word every single time. He thought he'd find some semblance of peace in finally declaring this, but he had none.

'Love'… it just seemed off.

What he was in now certainly wasn't what he'd ever pictured love would look like. He had expected his kisses to spark and his heart to flutter and all of the other things he read about in the romance novels that he'd never admit he picked up, much less owned. He'd always fantasized about something quieter and more… negotiable. Not that getting the exact opposite was so much of a surprise. He'd always assumed he'd go for someone like America, even if he never wanted to. There just didn't seem to be getting around it, unfortunately, since it was such a dominating influence on him that…

Centuries of spying and warring with the territory had left Prussia with the ability to speak French like a native, but his proficiency in English was somewhere around that of a grade-schooler (which was considerably less than awesome). When it came to the differences between Prussia and America, sometimes those boiled down to simply how the orders and callous indifference sounded in European French as opposed to an American English.

So, maybe, subconsciously, he was in love with his brother, or something… Certainly there were stranger things in history.

Canada ran his hand up and down Prussia's heavily-scarred back, and felt the skin quiver beneath his fingertips. He wondered why Prussia was there, and who Canada was a placeholder for if he was one. Considering Canada's personality, as Prussia was quick to point out, didn't survive long in Europe, it might have been someone who was dead. Or maybe it wasn't for an individual, but simply a want to get back to the feeling of conquering and being obscenely important. It certainly sounded quite like him to take someone's polite affection and quiet dedication to his own advantage. Canada was providing that at the moment, and it seemed he was doing well enough that Prussia wasn't really looking for a replacement. Which, of course, didn't mean he wasn't looking.

Canada really wanted to say this relationship was love, if only for the hopeful belief that he was just being paranoid. But, as Canada twirled the silver hair, he had to wonder if Prussia ever actually felt love. Had he before, but the experience ended so badly that he would never mention it again? Or, were the words he was quick to offer true, and he'd never thought of anyone as more than a disposable commodity. That might mean that his old prejudices against relationships were still in place, and all the physical and verbal affection was just a way of securing a constant supply of food, shelter, and sex.

'I love you' might have been along the lines of rent in Prussia's mind. The kisses on the neck might have been his food bill; any favor that was for Canada's pleasure rather than his own might have been utilities. And maybe he'd decided that all of those were due, as he'd increased them that night. Over doing the dishes Canada had been showered with affection that wasn't at all characteristic of the German and, as with everything else atypical, it was done enthusiastically but awkwardly. He'd flirted in a brash manner that almost dared the world to find fault in it, and especially dared Canada not to find it as appealing as he was attempting to be.

Being awkward in the ways of flirtation himself, Canada felt guilty for condemning this to be a manipulative endeavor. Maybe it wasn't that he was just looking for someone to alleviate loneliness, maybe this was also… maybe this was Prussia expressing love. Or, trying to in the manner that was irrefutably charming in his mind and exceedingly annoying (and often crossing the line into desperate) in everyone else's. Maybe he wasn't just sitting and waiting until something better came along. The chances were good that he'd never know; Prussia didn't share his motives if he could at all help it.

Canada wrapped his arms around his lover as he concluded that he hoped that something better never actually came. If he was a placeholder, he hoped that the affection for whoever that was remained forever unrequited. And that was selfish of him, but he didn't want to stop or apologize for that. Canada liked this set up for whatever reason it existed. He liked the kisses and whispered words no matter what was behind them. He liked having someone sit at the table and eat his food with gusto; no matter if it cost him more than it should have. More than anything, he liked his name always being remembered; no matter what the circumstances. And in return, Prussia would always have a hot kitchen, a drinking partner, and someone to mutter at for stealing covers.

Maybe this relationship wasn't just them selfishly attempting to keep from a crushing isolation, and maybe it was all actually about love. Maybe it was just that he was so inexperienced that caused him to doubt what might have been sincere feelings on both sides or… Or maybe he was right, and this was just…

He wasn't going to call himself right on this, no matter what that voice in the back of his mind was telling him. Canada pressed the other body to himself, and with every nerve that responded to the contact he told himself that this was real. Whatever the hell this was, it was real and he wasn't going to let it get away from him. He'd label this as love because he liked the idea that he could be able to call something that. If it was delusion, he was proud that he had enough to mistake something for it.

Canada moved the unconscious man's head so he could kiss him, and he felt nothing but slightly-chapped lips on his own. He tasted nothing but the over-night breath as it slipped down his throat. He wondered, in passing, if all the talk the books liked to makes about fireworks and light-headedness and magic were just embellishments with no stake in reality.

For the sake of love, he concluded that they were.


End file.
